


A Little Life

by poisonivory



Series: The Lawyer All the Wickedness [3]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Gwen (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonivory/pseuds/poisonivory
Summary: Gwen thought she might have to prevent Murdock from breaking Mr. Nelson’s neck. She didn’t expect to have to be worried he might break Mr. Nelson’sheart.Well, that’s not going to happen. Not if Gwen can help it.(Gwen has no idea if she can help it.)





	A Little Life

**Author's Note:**

> Part three of the Lawyer All the Wickedness series! As before, you don't have to read the Spider-Gwen comic to follow this, but you should read the first two parts of this series or you'll be very confused.
> 
> Title comes from another Schopenhauer quote: "Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death."

"Look, I know you're not really interested in law, but this is a great opportunity for you," Gwen's dad says one night in March. "Interning at the DA's office will look good on your resume no matter what you decide to do after you graduate. It's competitive, but I can put in a good word for you with Foggy that might help."

"Mmrph," Gwen says around a mouthful of the microwave chicken pot pies they've defrosted for dinner. It's only six-thirty and it's already as cold and dark as midnight outside. There's still scattered patches of snow from a late blizzard last week - snow Gwen will have to watch out for when she goes on patrol tonight. Summer internships seem a world away.

"Would it kill you to just apply?" her dad asks. "Because you're definitely not just lazing around the house all summer, I can tell you that. Besides, you might like it."

Gwen rolls her eyes and swallows. If she's going to spend her summer photocopying and fetching coffee she might as well do it for Mr. Nelson as anyone else, but she'd really rather be sleeping until three in the afternoon and playing gigs in Manhattan with the band. Still, she can tell her dad's not going to let this go.

"Fine," she says, and he smiles. "I'll apply." It doesn't mean she's actually going to get it, after all.

That night when she gets home from patrol there's a worryingly thick application pack on her bed. She shoves it onto the floor, drops her discarded costume on top of it, and collapses in a nest of blankets.

*

"Did you fill out that application yet?" Gwen's dad asks the following afternoon while Gwen's avoiding writing a paper.

"Not yet, Dad. I'll do it tomorrow."

"Did you fill out that application yet?" Gwen's dad asks three days later while Gwen's staring vaguely past her morning coffee.

"Not yet, Dad. Tonight for sure."

"Gwen, just fill out the damn application!" Gwen's dad says two weeks after _that_ , dumping it on her lap while she's sitting on the couch watching TV.

"Okay, okay, jeez! You don't have to make a federal case out of it!"

"Fill it out and maybe you'll learn what a federal case actually _is_."

"Har har."

*

Gwen's dad is beaming. "Great news, Gwennie."

Gwen looks up from her criminology textbook. "You finally got me that pony?"

"Keep dreaming, kiddo." He drops a thick envelope on the kitchen table in front of her. "Looks like you're in!"

"In what?" Gwen picks up the envelope, which is addressed to her, and peers at the return address. " _Department of Justice_...what, in _jail?_ "

She realizes as soon as it's out of her mouth that it's not really funny, what with all the crimes she regularly commits and all, but her dad is too stoked to notice the depressing implications of her joke. "The internship, Gwen. At the DA's office! Foggy told me it was probably a lock but I didn't want to say anything until we knew for sure. Congratulations!"

"...Oh."

Her dad sighs. "Look, Gwen, I know that this isn't exactly the sort of thing that a young woman's dreams are made of - "

"Gross."

" - but you've got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. Trust me, someday you'll be glad you did this." He squeezes her shoulder. "Besides, it's internships now, or two to three years stuck living here and working retail full-time after college because you have no office experience."

Gwen's eyebrows go up. "Well, I guess I'd better buy some business casual slacks this weekend, then."

"Atta girl." Her dad grins. "Foggy said you start in three weeks."

*

Two weeks later Gwen drops her morning cup of coffee on the front porch when she sees the headline:

_MURDOCK SWITCHES SIDES_

_Controversial defense attorney joins the Fightin' DA's team, implicates dozens in exchange for leniency_

Ignoring the broken mug and spreading pool of coffee, Gwen picks up the paper and skims the article. The full details haven't been released to the media, but apparently Matthew Murdock, personal attorney to incarcerated crime lord Wilson Fisk, has turned over enough evidence on his boss and the massive criminal organization he runs to ensure that Fisk stays behind bars for the rest of his natural life - where he'll soon be joined by a vast assortment of underlings from street-level mooks to politicians and millionaires. In exchange, Murdock has escaped all criminal charges despite years of knowingly covering up Fisk's activities. Instead of being disbarred, he's been given a job as an ADA. The writer of the article, Urich, makes it pretty clear how he feels about _that_.

And Urich doesn't even know what Gwen knows: that Murdock is far more than just a paid mouthpiece. That he's been all but running Fisk's organization ever since Fisk went up the river, and that he's a skilled assassin with God only knows how much blood on his hands. Not to mention a gigantic _buttmunch_.

The weird thing is that District Attorney Nelson _does_ know what Gwen knows, or at least enough of it to know he shouldn't trust Murdock as far as he can throw him. So why on Earth would he offer the man a _job?_

The now-cold coffee reaches Gwen's bare toes and she jumps back, then makes an annoyed noise. Okay, first: more coffee, then cleaning up this mess.

And one week from now? She'll be in the district attorney's office herself. Murdock may have fooled Mr. Nelson somehow, but if he thinks he can pull his reformed act on _her_ , he's got another think coming.

*

The first day of her internship, Gwen pushes her way past a group of reporters smoking on the steps outside and is met in the lobby by a blonde woman in a crisp white blouse. "Are you Gwen Stacy?" she asks, and Gwen nods. "I'm Karen Page, District Attorney Nelson's assistant. I'm going to walk you through security and take you upstairs, okay?"

"Uh, sure, thanks," Gwen says, shaking the proffered hand.

"There's the metal detectors, then you'll need an ID card, then...oh, before I forget, were there reporters outside?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes."

"They'll figure out where you work soon enough. If they ask you anything, your only answer is 'no comment,' got it? Don't talk about cases, don't talk about staff, don't even talk about whether you like the snacks in the vending machine - which you won't, the city went on a health kick last spring and they're all terrible. Just say 'no comment.'"

Well, no time like the present to start digging. “Are they here because of Murdock?” Karen gives her a surprised look. “My dad’s Captain Stacy. He talks about work stuff sometimes.”

“Ah,” Karen says. “Well, yes. Things have been… _interesting_ since Mr. Murdock joined us.” Her lips tighten. “You know what, I’m going to let Foggy - Mr. Nelson - answer any questions you have about that.”

“Okay,” Gwen says. She has plenty of questions for Mr. Nelson - not that she can ask all of them without a mask on.

Karen walks her through the security process, which includes taking a terrible photo for an ID card and even being fingerprinted, and they go upstairs. It’s not much of a sight. Gwen’s not sure why she expected opulence considering she was raised on a civic salary, but the building’s interior is dated and a little shabby.

Oh well. She didn’t sign up for this internship for the glamour of it all.

As they reach the door that reads “District Attorney” she can hear a woman yelling.

“ - don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, and you know it!” the woman says. “I told you that when you brought him in. You want to give him a little desk in the corner and grab some headlines, fine, but I’m not co-counseling with him on this or any other case.”

A man responds in a quieter voice - Gwen can tell it’s Mr. Nelson, but can’t make out what he’s saying.

“It’s not going to be what’s best for the case when he cuts my heart out and eats it like the vampire he is,” the woman snaps. Another murmur from Mr. Nelson. “I don’t _care_ if that’s not what vampires do!”

Gwen glances at Karen, who looks suddenly very tired. Karen catches her looking and sighs. “It’s been...an interesting week,” she says, and opens the door.

Sure enough, there’s Mr. Nelson, looking even more like an anxious Basset hound than usual as he faces off against a woman with dark hair pulled back in a bun and a furious expression on her face. “Look, Kirsten, I know it’s not ideal, but if you could just - ” He breaks off as Karen and Gwen walk in. “Oh! Um, table this for now, would you?”

“Don’t - ”

“I’m not blowing you off,” Mr. Nelson says. “I hear you. Just...table it.”

The woman - Kirsten, apparently - lets out a noise halfway between a sigh and an angry cartoon bull snort, and nods. “Thank you,” Mr. Nelson says, and aims an only somewhat forced-looking smile in Gwen’s direction. “Gwen Stacy, right? It’s been a while.”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, it definitely has,” Gwen says, after what’s probably too long of a confused pause. She last saw Mr. Nelson a couple months ago - but she was wearing a mask then. The last time he’s seen her face was probably three or four years ago, when she was still in high school and he was just an ADA who’d stopped by the precinct to see her dad when she happened to be there. “Uh, thanks for the internship and everything.”

“Not at all, we’re happy to have you on board,” he says. “Uh...this is Kirsten McDuffie, one of the ADAs. Kirsten, Gwen here is our summer intern.”

“Oh, so we’re letting the fox in among the chicks as well as the hens, now?” Ms. McDuffie mutters, then smiles at Gwen. “Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“You too,” Gwen says, and suppresses a sudden awkward impulse to curtsey or something, just to make the introduction feel official. This is very different from orientation at Dollar Dog.

“Well, I’ll let Karen show you around, and then she can sit down with you and go over your job responsibilities,” Mr. Nelson says. “You’ll be reporting directly to her but of course you can always come to us with any questions...are you okay?”

No. No, Gwen is very much not okay, she knows she’s making a weird face but her spider-sense is _screaming_ at her that someone is coming, something is _happening_ , there is an _enemy nearby_ \- 

The door opens and Matt Murdock walks in.

He looks the same as Gwen’s always seem him: handsome and pale in a sharp black suit, his flaming-red hair combed neatly to the side. It’s perfectly suitable business attire, but considering that it’s _Murdock_ , he looks out of place in this staid, slightly ramshackle office - a jarring note in otherwise inoffensive elevator music.

He taps around with his cane, and Gwen can’t help but move slightly in front of Mr. Nelson and the women, because she’s seen the razor-sharp blade hidden inside that thing. “Good morning, Karen,” Murdock says. God, he’s not even bothering to pretend. Gwen’s not sure what’s more smug, his voice or his smile.

Ms. McDuffie hisses like a cat and stalks off to one of the private offices, slamming the door behind her. Karen folds her arms across her chest. “Murdock,” she says, absolutely deadpan.

He tilts his head inquisitively. “Is there someone else in here?”

Mr. Nelson sighs. “Morning, Matt,” he says. “That was Kirsten starting her work day...very enthusiastically. And we have our new summer intern here as well, Gwen. Gwen Stacy, Matt Murdock.”

“Stacy?” Murdock says, angling towards Mr. Nelson’s voice as if he doesn’t know perfectly well where they all are. Gwen’s not sure if he’s got some kind of evil bat radar or if he’s just pretending to be blind for some dick reason of his own, but either way she’s not fooled. “Any relation to Captain Stacy of the NYPD?”

He gives her a sharp smile and Gwen realizes abruptly that she’s made a tactical error. Because Mr. Nelson may not know that his new intern is a wanted vigilante, but Murdock absolutely does - a point he made abundantly clear when he showed up _at her father’s house_. She doesn’t _think_ Mr. Nelson will have her arrested if Murdock drops that little secret, considering that she’s saved Mr. Nelson’s life a couple of times and also he’s employing someone he knows is an _assassin_ , but she’d rather not test it.

Her hands curl into fists. “He’s my father,” she says.

“He’s a good man,” Murdock says serenely. “He must be very proud of you. Getting an internship like this.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gwen says. “He’d definitely shoot anyone who messed with me, that’s for sure.”

Out of the corner she sees Karen’s eyebrows go up and Mr. Nelson frown, but Murdock’s smile just widens, sharklike. “An admirable paternal instinct, to be sure,” he says. “Well, welcome to the district attorney’s office, Ms. Stacy. I hope it proves educational.” He tilts his head at her in something like a nod, then pivots and lets his cane lead him to the office next to Ms. McDuffie’s.

Mr. Nelson watches him go, then sighs. “Right,” he says. “Karen, can you get Gwen settled?”

*

Gwen leaves the office at five, after a day spent mostly reorganizing things in filing cabinets that look like they haven’t been touched since the 70s. She doesn’t go home, though, just slips down a side street and into an alley - and then, when no one’s looking, scrambles up the wall of the nearest building and onto the roof to change into her suit. And waits.

Karen and most of the ADAs trickle out of the office slowly over the next hour, but Murdock stays until sunset. Gwen nearly follows him, but holds back. She still has no idea what his angle is, and if she tries to give him a shakedown now he might spill the beans to Mr. Nelson sooner rather than later. No, she’ll let him be - for now.

It’s a soft blue dusk when Mr. Nelson finally leaves the building. Gwen keeps pace with him for a few blocks until he reaches a less crowded thoroughfare, then swings down to the sidewalk.

“Good evening, Mr. Nelson.”

He jumps about a foot and drops his briefcase. Gwen grins behind her mask.

“Someday I won’t be surprised when you sneak up on me,” he says, picking up his briefcase and dusting it off. “Walk and talk? It’s late and I haven’t had dinner yet.” Gwen’s stomach lets out an ill-timed growl and it’s his turn to grin. “And neither have you, apparently. Come on, there’s a good pizza place a couple blocks up. I’ll buy you a slice.”

“Should you be buying dinner for vigilantes on your government salary?” she asks, falling into step beside him. She hopes that’s not actually an ethical sticking point for him, because she’s starving.

He shrugs. “You’re my constituency, too. Wait - you _are_ old enough to vote, right?”

“Is it clear that I’m glaring at you through this mask?” she asks. He chuckles, and she lets the silence fall for a beat before saying, “Should you be hiring known criminals to _earn_ a government salary?”

“So that’s what this is about,” he says. “To be honest, I kind of expected you to show up the day that article of Urich’s ran.”

She’d thought about it, but she held off because her internship was starting so soon. Hopefully he won’t make the connection. “I just don’t understand. You know what he is.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Nelson says, surprisingly quiet. Gwen can’t decipher the expression on his face. “Yeah, I do.”

“So you just...let him get away with it? With everything he’s done?” she says. “And not only that, but trust him to work with you without stabbing you in the back? I don’t just mean abusing power - he could _literally stab you_. That cane has a blade in it, Mr. Nelson!”

He nods. “Yeah. I know.”

Gwen goggled at him. “You _know?_ And you put him in your _office?_ What, are you gonna let him in your home next? Maybe give him a spare key?”

“That’s enough,” Mr. Nelson snaps, and Gwen blinks and steps back. Mr. Nelson has his sensitive spots - Gwen’s run afoul of them before - but they’re always a surprise given his general affability.

Sure enough, Mr. Nelson immediately sighs. “Sorry. Look, I don’t mean to be patronizing here, but trust me when I say that the situation is...complicated. Ben Urich may be a hell of a reporter, but he’s not actually privy to the intricacies of the deals I offer, nor should he be.”

“But - ”

They’ve nearly reached the pizza place, its neon sign a soft orange glow in the darkness. Mr. Nelson pulls up three buildings short of it. “I take lawyer-client confidentiality very seriously, Spider-Woman, even in a case like this. The only reason I’m even telling you this much is because I owe you, and because I trust you. Suffice to say that I know about Matt’s - about Murdock’s - past, and I know what he’s given to me and this city in return, and I’m willing to live with the compromise we’ve struck. And I’m afraid that’s all I’m willing to say on the matter.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a battered leather wallet. “Now. Pepperoni or plain?”

Gwen looks at him - this pasty, pudgy civil servant with his eight-dollar haircut and overpriced shoes and the light of conviction shining in his eyes - and smiles behind her mask.

“Pepperoni,” she says. “What’s life without a little kick?”

“An arachnid after my own heart. Wait here,” he says, and ambles off towards the pizza place. Gwen’s out of sight of the window, but she can hear the guy behind the counter greeting him by name. Seems the district attorney of the biggest city in the nation is a regular at a greasy dollar pizza joint.

If Matt Murdock wants to hurt this man, he’ll have to go through Gwen first.

*

Whatever Murdock’s planning, though, he’s playing the long game, because a week goes by and nothing much happens.

To be honest, the job is pretty boring. Gwen files, and photocopies, and runs confidential documents to other departments, and picks up lunch. With no legal training whatsoever, she can’t really contribute to any of the actual _work_ that gets done in the office. There are ten ADAs and as many paralegals, but they’re all always super busy, so she’s often left to her own devices in the conference room, or at the tiny folding table they’ve set up as her desk in the corner of the main office. Even Karen is usually too swamped to talk with her more than in passing. Gwen’s not sure how much useful work experience she’s getting, but she listens to a _lot_ of music on her phone.

The most interesting thing about the job is watching Murdock. Ms. McDuffie is the most outspoken in her hatred, but pretty much everyone is cold if not downright hostile towards him. Only Mr. Nelson treats him with the same disheveled amiability he uses on everyone else.

Murdock doesn’t appear to notice. He responds to everyone - Mr. Nelson’s pleasantries, Karen’s iciness, Ms. McDuffie’s outright insults, Gwen’s silent glares - with even-tempered smugness, like he knows an embarrassing secret about everyone and is trying not to laugh about it. Gwen suspects he does it because he knows it’s more maddening than any other possible response. She certainly has to hold back the urge to web him in the face on a pretty much daily basis.

Unfortunately, though, he seems to be doing his job by the book, at least so far. Gwen’s not qualified to identify any sneaky legal abuses of power, but she knows Ms. McDuffie at least is watching him like a hawk. And he hasn’t stabbed anyone, so there’s that.

No, he mostly just shows up at nine, leaves at five, and smirks at everyone for the eight hours in between. It’s obnoxious, but nothing Gwen can punch him for.

God, she wishes she had something to punch him for.

To work out her frustration, she patrols, taking advantage of already being in Manhattan for work to swing around the city in the evening and keep her eyes and spider-sense peeled for wrongdoing. It’s around ten on Friday night when she hears the sounds of a fight near a warehouse off the river.

She swings towards the commotion. As she gets close, she sees it’s a whole horde of guys on one; ten low-level mooks all swinging fists and crowbars and chains at one lithe figure in red.

The new guy. Daredevil.

Gwen considers leaving him to it - he kind of seems like a psychopath, and _she_ got blamed for the beatings he administered before people started catching photos of him - but she never could resist an underdog. She webs a guy coming for the back of Daredevil’s head with a piece of rebar and reels him back, then flips into the empty space where he was to stand back to back with Daredevil.

“Spider-Woman,” he says, ducking a punch.

“Daredevil,” she replies. “Who are we dancing with?”

“Human traffickers,” he snarls, low and vicious. There’s a crunch and a scream and suddenly a mook’s on the ground, clutching his leg and staring at the jagged edge of bone poking through the flesh.

“Holy crap!” Gwen kicks an oncoming attacker away and webs another one’s foot to the floor to keep him out of reach. “What - that’s - what did you _do?_ Are you crazy?”

“He’s down, isn’t he?” Daredevil asks. He slams a brutal elbow into one guy’s face, breaking his nose, then uses him as a springboard to leap on another foe and start pummeling him.

“I - stop!” Gwen says, blocking the swing of a chain with her wrist and wincing as it connects. She’s fought alongside a fair amount of other vigilantes, but none this ruthless. Daredevil’s not just putting them down; he’s making them _hurt_. “Daredevil, stop!”

He ignores her, crouched on top of his opponent and driving his fist into his face over and over again. Time Gwen ended this. She sends out a flurry of webs, line after line until she’s netted all their foes who aren’t unconscious, pinning them to the ground. This wouldn’t work on her usual enemies, but these guys are slow, tired, and mostly injured, and they’re easy enough to trap.

“It’s over, Daredevil,” she says. He doesn’t let up. “Daredevil!” she says again, and grabs his wrist.

He struggles, but he must not have super strength, because he can’t break her grip. She yanks him off of the unconscious body beneath him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands. “You could have just knocked them out, you didn’t have to do… _this_.” Ugh, the guy’s face looks like hamburger. She turns away.

Daredevil yanks his wrist free as her hand relaxes. “Do you know what these men do?” he asks. “Do you have any idea who they are? They take _children_.” The red of his costume isn’t quite the same as blood; she can see the stains splattered across it. There’s something naggingly familiar about his voice. “Kidnapping without ransom, Spider-Woman. The ones that aren’t pretty? They make them _fight_ , sometimes to the death. And those are the lucky ones.”

He pulls something out of the holster at his thigh - two short sticks, heavy ones by the look of them. Gwen takes a step back, but he just snaps them together. “It’s not all purse snatchers and jaywalkers, kid. If you don’t have the stomach for it, stay out of my way.”

With a flick of his wrist, half the cane he’s holding goes flying, releasing a cable. It hooks around a streetlamp and pulls in, and Daredevil swings out of reach, from the streetlamp to a rooftop and up and over.

Gwen should follow. She can’t follow. She has to call the police.

She has to call an _ambulance_.

God, she hates growing up.

*

By Wednesday of next week Gwen’s no closer to figuring out what to do about Daredevil, or Murdock, or where to find less ugly office-appropriate shoes that don’t give her blisters or cost a buttload. It’s a surprisingly hectic day; she’s kept busy running confidential documents all over town until well after five. She has to wait at the last place so that she can hand the file to the attorney in question, and receive a file in return. When she emerges it’s dark out, but still so hot that the idea of descending into the dank, humid maw of the subway station fills her with dread. Even her costume with its mask and hood seems like a better option.

She slips into an alley and quick-changes behind a dumpster that someone _definitely_ threw a lot of dairy products into twelve hours and 93 degrees ago. Living the glamorous life of a superhero, that’s her.

At least it’s cooler when she’s up off the streets, swinging between the buildings. Everyone’s probably gone from the office by now; she’ll slip in through the window, leave the file on Mr. Nelson’s desk, and head for home. Maybe she’ll take a nap in a bathtub full of ice when she gets there.

The lights are off when she reaches the office. She touches down lightly on the brick above Mr. Nelson’s window and listens, just in case. It wouldn’t do to come clambering in just as the janitor shows up to empty the wastebaskets.

Sure enough, she hears a rustle, and then the low murmur of a man’s voice. Mr. Nelson. Working late and on the phone, probably.

...With the lights off, though?

She inches towards the window and cranes her ears. There’s another man’s voice, and then a thump, and a low chuckle.

Gwen peeks down into the window, and her heart stops.

The other man is _Murdock_ , and he’s got Mr. Nelson pinned up against the wall. Gwen’s about to break the glass and go charging in to save her boss when her brain suddenly makes sense of the upside-down picture her eyes are sending it, and she realizes that Mr. Nelson’s got his hands in Murdock’s back pockets, and he’s smiling.

_What._

“...home already?” Murdock is saying. “It’s late.”

“Well, I would have been done an hour ago if _someone_ had stopped pestering me like I told him to,” Mr. Nelson says, but his voice is warm with affection.

“It’s not my fault it’s too hot to work,” Murdock says.

Mr. Nelson laughs. “I’m pretty sure it’s too hot for what you’re suggesting, too.”

Murdock grins and presses the sharpness of those bared teeth to Nelson’s jaw. “Yeah, but mine is a much more fun way of working up a sweat.”

The wall Gwen’s clinging to lurches beneath her, and she clutches at it to regain her balance. That’s - they're - how could -

Matt freaking _Murdock_ has his _tongue_ in the district attorney’s _mouth_ , and Mr. Nelson looks _entirely_ too happy about it.

As Gwen shifts on the brick, fighting for purchase in a world that suddenly makes _no goddamn sense at all_ , Murdock suddenly pulls back and frowns towards the window.

Mr. Nelson tenses. “What's wrong?”

“Thought I heard something,” Murdock mutters, and then tilts his head, and _smiles_. “But it was just a bug.”

Shit.

Gwen bolts.

*

The world hasn't turned back upright on its axis by the time Gwen gets home, mumbles an excuse about eating dinner in the city to her dad, and flops onto her bed - on top of the sheets, pantsless, air conditioner running at full blast.

Maybe it's heat stroke. Maybe it's like one of those mirages people see in the desert in cartoons. Only instead of an oasis, Gwen saw her boss hardcore making out with her arch nemesis.

But no, she heard them, too - and Murdock heard _her_ , which is its own problem that she needs to figure out how to deal with. She’s pretty sure mirages don’t do any of that.

At least now she knows why Mr. Nelson hired a known assassin.

But no, that doesn't make sense. Mr. Nelson is a good man. She truly believes that. He wouldn't overlook multiple counts of homicide in exchange for - urk, in exchange for _sexual favors_. God, it's like thinking about her high school principal having an affair with Darth Vader.

But if Mr. Nelson isn’t letting Murdock slide in exchange for sex, and he hasn’t been in on this the whole time - which Gwen _cannot_ believe, Mr. Nelson doesn’t have a sinister bone in his body - then how to explain what she saw tonight? They couldn’t genuinely be _dating_ , could they? Mr. Nelson is a sweet man and a brave one, but he is also a pudgy, prematurely balding bureaucrat who does not appear to own a single item of clothing that fits correctly. And Gwen has to admit that as much as she hates Murdock, he’s, well, kind of a fox. The two of them together...it doesn’t make sense.

Well, no. It doesn’t make sense that Murdock would have genuine feelings for Mr. Nelson, both because he’s out of Mr. Nelson’s league and because Murdock is a human serpent with no genuine feelings for anyone or anything. But someone like Mr. Nelson, who sees the good in everyone and might be flattered by a show of interest from someone as hot as Murdock…

Gwen thought she might have to prevent Murdock from breaking Mr. Nelson’s neck. She didn’t expect to have to be worried he might break Mr. Nelson’s _heart_.

Well, that’s not going to happen. Not if Gwen can help it.

(Gwen has no idea if she can help it.)

*

She’s early at work the next day so that no one knows she didn’t drop off the file she was supposed to last night. And lo and behold, there’s Murdock, pouring himself a cup of coffee in the little office kitchenette. He’s not usually at work before nine, which might mean he was waiting for her. She hates the idea that she might be that predictable.

“Karen?” he asks at the sound of her footsteps, tilting his ear in her direction.

“Oh, cut the crap,” she snaps. She blocks the kitchenette doorway, hands on her hips. “You know it’s me.”

“Ah, Ms. Stacy,” he says, with one of those reptilian smiles. “You’re here early.”

“And _you_ were here _late_.”

His smile widens, but he says nothing.

“You’re scum,” Gwen says. “Bad enough you’re a murderer and a liar. Now you’re dragging Mr. Nelson down with you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say _dragging_ ,” Murdock drawls, tipping a packet of sugar into his coffee and stirring it lazily. “He goes down very willingly all on his - ”

Gwen grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the pantry cabinets. She fails to dislodge his smile one bit; he doesn’t even spill his coffee.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she snarls. “I’m going to figure out what game you’re playing here. I don’t know if you’ve tricked him into thinking you actually care about him or what, but I’m going to figure out your angle, and I’m going to tell him - ”

“Tell him what?” Murdock asks. “And which of you will do the telling, Little Miss Muffet? Trust me, kid, there’s not a thing you can tell him about me he doesn’t already know, and then some. But you...oh, you’ve got your secrets, don’t you?”

Gwen’s so startled she lets him go and steps back. He smirks. “Go ahead. Tell him,” she bluffs to cover her misstep, even though she knows it’s too late. “If he won’t prosecute _you_ , he won’t prosecute me. And even if he did, I’d gladly go to jail to take you down.” She’s...not sure that’s true, actually, but it’s out of her mouth now, so.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Murdock says, and for the first time he actually looks irritated. “I’m not going to tell him who you are. It would be a massive conflict of interest for him.”

“More than knowing about _you?_ ” she retorts, startled. That almost sounds like Murdock _protecting_ Mr. Nelson, albeit in his own scuzzy, two-faced way.

“He’s already made his choice about me. I’m not going to force him to make another one,” Murdock says. He tilts his head. “And Ms. Page just got into the elevator downstairs, so unless you want to still be having this conversation when she arrives…”

He tries to slide past her but she blocks the doorway again. “So that’s it?” she asks. “You don’t tell him about me and I don’t tell him about you and we just pretend I won’t put you behind bars someday?”

“Do I need to put this in smaller words for you? _There’s nothing you can tell him_ ,” Murdock says. “He knows everything you do. He knows _more_ than you do. You have no leverage over me, Spider-Woman.” He straightens his tie with his free hand and tries to edge past her again. “Now, as lovely as this tete-a-tete has been, I have work to do.”

This time Gwen steps to the side, but she can’t help staring, baffled, as he passes. “What on Earth could he even see in you?” she asks.

Murdock turns towards her, and for a split second something like sadness creases his brow. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. “We don’t all get our thrills swinging on webs, Ms. Stacy.”

He slips into his office, but Gwen’s still standing bewildered in the kitchen when Karen walks in.

*

Gwen sneaks a note onto Mr. Nelson’s desk two days later, when Murdock’s at the courthouse. _Roof, noon,_ she writes in a disguised handwriting, and signs it with a doodle of a spider. It’s risky, and skirts _way_ too close to giving away her secret identity, but she can’t wait for Mr. Nelson to decide to work late so she can catch him on the street after dark, and she doesn’t want to approach him at home. What if Murdock’s already there? _Yuck._

She waits until Mr. Nelson strolls oh-so-casually out of the office at 11:55, then scurries out to quick-change and meet him upstairs. He smiles when he sees her.

“What, no Shake Shack?” he asks. “Isn’t it your turn?”

“You’re _dating_ him?” she asks. Whoops. She meant to ease into that one.

He goes bright red. Well, clearly he knows who she’s talking about. “Ah,” he says. “That’s, uh. Personal. But yes.” He clears his throat. “Matt and I are in a relationship. And as relationships between managers and subordinates are frowned upon by the city’s human resources department, I’d appreciate if you kept that to yourself.”

“I don’t care about _that_ ,” she says. “I mean, yeah, I guess you shouldn’t date your employees either, but - but Mr. Nelson, he’s an _actual killer_. Like, he kills people. He kills them!”

“Not anymore,” Mr. Nelson says. Gwen’s not sure if her skeptical expression somehow shows through her mask or if he just realizes what a ridiculous thing that is to say, because he holds his hands up, forestalling her. “Yes, I realize that sounds like splitting hairs. I just...”

She waits.

He sighs, shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns to gaze uptown, over the city. “I’m doing the best I can,” he says, quietly. “I’m a human being too, Spider-Woman. We’re none of us perfect.”

“You can’t trust him,” she says. “You _can’t_.”

He gives her a sidelong glance. “How many people in this city would say that about you?”

“That’s different,” she says. “You know I haven’t done the things they’ve accused me of. And you know he _has_.”

Mr. Nelson rubs the back of his head, looking out over the streets. “Heck of a view up here,” he says. “It must be business as usual for you, though, right? The kind of altitude you get, I don’t know if anyone sees what you see. I’ve asked him what it looks like to him - well, ‘looks’ isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean - but he’s not great at describing it. I guess we don’t have the same vocabulary for that sort of thing.”

“You mean he’s really blind?” she asks.

Mr. Nelson doesn’t say anything for a minute, and when he does, it’s not an answer to her question. “I get a report, you know. On you. Every week, from the NYPD. This many sightings, this many alleged crimes, this many alleged rescues, this many civilian reports. It sometimes takes a while to sort the wheat from the chaff, especially with the mess Castle made of things, but it gives me a pretty good picture.”

“Oh?” she asks, a little hesitant. When Mr. Nelson looks at that picture, what does he see?

“I think you make a lot of mistakes,” he says. “I also think you do a lot of good in this city. I think it’s better with you in it.”

Gwen swallows hard.

“I like to think the same thing applies to me,” Mr. Nelson says, so quietly she’s not sure she’d hear him if she didn’t have so much radiation churning around in her blood. “I’m trying to...to have the good I do outweigh the times I might have compromised. I think...I don’t know if Matt can do the same. He has a harder row to hoe than we do. But I’m trying to give him a chance to balance the scales.”

“You’re taking your life in your hands,” she points out.

“Maybe,” he says. “But I did that running for this office, too, because I love this city. I’m the only one who gets to decide what’s worth the risk.”

“And you think _Matt Murdock_ is?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is soft that she feels uncomfortable hearing it, like it’s a part of his heart that’s private. “Yeah, I do.”

And there’s nothing Gwen can say to that.

*

The thing about having one of the world’s foundational pillars crumble away, Gwen keeps learning, is that the world’s got an awful lot of scaffolding. Somehow life grinds on, and even the weirdest of weirds manages to turn boring after a while.

She works. She fights crime. She commutes. It’s basically the pits.

The thing, too, about knowing about Murdock and Mr. Nelson, is that it’s totally obvious now that she knows to look for it - but Mr. Nelson doesn’t know that _Gwen Stacy_ knows, which means she’s scrambling for her poker face more than ever.

Like whenever Ms. McDuffie mentions setting Mr. Nelson up with her roommate, which she brings up on a semi-regular basis, and Mr. Nelson splutters and blushes and politely declines while Murdock looks more and more entertained. Or when Murdock takes an absent sip from Mr. Nelson’s coffee cup and Gwen’s the only one to notice. 

Or one Wednesday when Gwen’s taking notes in a team meeting and Murdock has to step out early to deal with a case. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him stand up and run his fingers along the backs of the chairs lined up against the conference table in a big show of needing them to guide him towards the door. When he reaches the chair Mr. Nelson's sitting in, though, he slows, hand curving over Mr. Nelson's shoulder. Mr. Nelson reaches up and squeezes his hand, and Murdock smiles faintly.

It's honestly the grossest thing Gwen's ever seen.

But no one else in the office seems to pick up on it - not even Karen, who’s a born gossip, or Ms. McDuffie, who loathes Murdock. And who can Gwen tell? The girls in the band? Her _dad?_ Just the thought of talking to her dad about Mr. Nelson’s sex life makes her want to web herself in the face.

One Friday a couple weeks after Gwen’s attempt to talk some sense into Mr. Nelson, they all head out of work together. Ms. McDuffie’s just won a big case, and Mr. Nelson’s taking everyone out to dinner. Gwen would kind of rather bail, but a free steak is a free steak.

They’ve just hit the street when Gwen’s spider-sense _freaks_ on her, screaming an alarm in her head. She sees Murdock’s head snap up like a dog who’s heard a squirrel, but instinct’s got her moving already, shouting “Get down!” as she tackles Mr. Nelson to the sidewalk.

There’s a squeal of tires around the corner and then - shit, gunshots. Gwen tries to put her body between Mr. Nelson and the car speeding by. Murdock drags Karen and Ms. McDuffie down behind him and pins them there.

“DIE, MURDOCK, YOU FUCKING TRAITOR!” a voice yells from the car. Bullets ping the brick above Gwen’s head and Mr. Nelson flinches beneath her.

The security guards run forward but the car’s already gone. Gwen’s spider-sense is quiet, so it’s not making another loop. She lets Mr. Nelson up.

“Is everyone all right?” he asks in a shaky voice, looking around. Karen’s got a skinned elbow but that seems to be the worst of it. Not that they’d know it from how angry Murdock is.

“Did anyone get the license?” he demands, storming a few feet down the block and loosening his tie like he’s going to run after the car. “Tell me someone with working eyes was smart enough to look at the goddamn license!”

“Matt,” Mr. Nelson says.

Murdock whirls on the nearest security guard with such unerring accuracy Gwen wonders how anyone could think he’s an ordinary blind man. “Does the city actually _pay_ you to stand around with your thumb up your ass like that?” He’s got his cane clenched in his fist like he wants to use it on the guy. “You’re supposed to keep the DA safe! You’re supposed to keep everyone in this building safe!”

“Jesus,” Ms. McDuffie murmurs.

“ _Matt!_ ” Mr. Nelson says, louder this time. “ _Stop_. We’re fine. No one got hurt.” Karen raises her eyebrows at him and points to her elbow. “No one got _seriously_ hurt.”

Murdock half turns towards him and the security guard shrinks back, away from his rage. “They can’t...they can’t just…” Murdock says, narrow chest heaving like a bellows.

“They won’t,” Mr. Nelson says. “There are security cameras all over this place. One of them will have caught the license number. And then we can let the police _do their jobs_ , Matt.” He drops a heavy emphasis on that last part, like he’s reminding Murdock that he’s supposed to work _with_ the police these days. “In the meantime, we’re going to get Karen a band-aid, and then maybe take a rain check on dinner?” He glances at Kirsten, who nods. “Right. Band-aid, police reports, home.”

He turns to Gwen. “That was some amazingly quick thinking on your part, Gwen. Thank you.”

“Oh, I just…” she fumbles, waving her hands vaguely in the air like that’s the rest of a sentence. “Instinct. Lizard-brain stuff.” She bites back a wince, thinking of Peter. “You know.”

“Well, it looks like you and Matt are the heroes of the hour,” Mr. Nelson says. Gwen struggles to keep her face neutral.

“Yeah,” Ms. McDuffie says begrudgingly. “Thanks, Murdock.”

“Thanks,” Karen echoes, frowning at her elbow.

Murdock lifts a hand in acknowledgment, but he barely seems to be listening. He’s scowling in the direction the car went, head tilted into the wind. There’s the wail of an approaching siren - the NYPD finally responding to a report of gunshots, Gwen guesses - but Murdock doesn’t have the look of a man inclined to sit back and let the police take care of this.

Sure enough: “I have to go,” he says.

“You can’t,” Mr. Nelson says.

“Foggy - ”

“You _can’t_ ,” Mr. Nelson repeats, with a firmness that surprises Gwen. Like he expects Murdock to listen to him even when it doesn’t amuse him to do so. “The police will want a statement from everyone. Whatever any of us have to do, it will have to wait.”

The weird thing is, he looks at _Gwen_ on that last bit.

Murdock’s jaw tightens - and then relaxes. He lets up on his death grip on his cane. “You’re right,” he says. “The police need a statement.”

Mr. Nelson beams, and even Karen and Kirsten, looking back and forth between them like they’re at a particularly perplexing tennis match, look relieved, but Gwen’s not fooled for a second. Murdock has gone this long without trusting cops to do their job. He’ll want revenge for the attempt on his life, and he’ll be taking it as soon as possible.

Well, if Murdock’s hitting the streets tonight, so is Spider-Woman.

*

The problem with spider-sense is that it’s great at warning Gwen of _imminent_ danger, but not so hot about helping her pinpoint danger _elsewhere_ that she can get into. Still, she concentrates, swinging around town once the sun has set and paying close attention to the flutter in her brain that tells her something hinky is going down.

She stops a couple muggings that way and snags an air conditioner that’s falling out of a window before it can land on a passerby, but there’s no sign of Murdock. She’s about to give up when her spider-sense points her in the direction of the river.

It’s not Murdock she finds beating the crap out of some two-bit mook from the Kingpin’s organization, though.

It’s Daredevil.

“Who ordered the hit on Murdock today?” Daredevil demands, slamming his victim into the bricks. The mook’s head wobbles on his neck and there’s blood trickling from his temple and his nose, soaking his collar. Even if he were willing to talk, Gwen’s not sure he’s conscious enough to string a sentence together.

“Looks like he’s had enough,” she says, perching on a lamppost behind Daredevil.

Daredevil doesn’t turn around. “This doesn’t concern you, Spider-Woman.”

“You’re like two seconds from killing that guy, so yeah, it kind of does.”

“He’ll live,” Daredevil says contemptuously, and tightens his grip on the mook’s shoulder. The mook cries out, and Gwen suspects that particular joint’s had quite a bit of punishment already. “That is, if he tells me what I want to know.”

He pulls his fist back. _Thwipp!_ Gwen webs it before he can strike.

Daredevil tests the web strength, trying to break it. It’s stronger than he is, though. So’s Gwen. “Walk _away_ , Spider-Woman,” he snaps.

“You first,” she says before realizing both how childish she sounds, and that he physically can’t while she’s holding the other end of the web.

He finally turns to face her, letting the mook slump to the ground as he does. Gwen hopes the poor guy’s lost consciousness. “Listen, kid…”

Something about his disdain strikes a familiar chord, but Gwen doesn’t have time to remember the song. She wraps the loose end of the web around the top of the lamppost and skates down it to Daredevil’s upraised fist, then flips over his head to land on the wall above his victim’s crumpled form. “You were beating on him because of the hit on the DA’s team,” she says. “Because of Murdock. Why do you care?”

Daredevil yanks harder on the webline. It’ll fray soon enough, but not before Gwen gets some answers. “Shooting at civic servants is a _crime_ , Spider-Woman. I’d think you’d care too.”

“I do, but you don’t seem to have too many tender feelings for criminals,” Gwen says, gesturing at the poor soul beneath her, “and Murdock’s just that. You guys old buddies or something?”

“I don’t care that they shot at _Murdock_ ,” Daredevil snaps. “I care that they shot at the DA’s team. Murdock can take care of himself, but if he puts Foggy in the crossfire - ”

Gwen snorts. “‘Foggy,’ huh? What are you guys, buddies or someth-- ”

She freezes. Daredevil stiffens.

Gwen’s an _idiot_.

“ _Murdock_ ,” she breathes. It’s so obvious, now that she’s looking for it - the lean sharp figure, the posture, the voice. The violence. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

Daredevil - _Murdock_ \- yanks on the web and it finally snaps. “Same thing as you,” he says, but for the first time his bravado seems forced. “Helping people.”

Gwen glances down. “Oh yeah, this guy looks real glad you came along.”

“Not _him_ ,” Murdock says. “I’m talking about all the innocent people who could have been hurt today. Including _you_ , I apparently need to point out.” He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. She’s never seen him uncomfortable before. “I knew switching sides would put a price on my head. But firing into the civilians around me to get at me isn’t playing by the rules.”

“Since when do you care about the rules?” Gwen asks, askance.

Between the mask and the darkness, Murdock’s face is impossible to read. “Since the other players became more important than winning.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to believe that you’ve turned over a new leaf?” Gwen asks. “That you’re putting bad guys away out here and in the office out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Frankly, kid, I don’t care _what_ you believe,” Murdock says. “Just stay out of my way.”

“I can’t do that if you’re gonna be turning people into hamburger,” she says, gesturing below her. “Even lowlifes like this guy.”

“Oh, Christ!” Murdock says, head tilted towards the sky like he’s genuinely hoping his lord and savior will come down and argue his point with Gwen. “What does it take with you? It’s not enough that I gave up a criminal empire to help put the _really_ bad guys behind bars, now you want to quibble over my _methods?_ What does it matter as long as they’re stopped?”

Gwen hopes he can’t tell that she’s asked herself that too, in her darkest moments. Either way, she knows the answer. “If you don’t see why it matters, then you haven’t changed as much as you think you have.”

Murdock turns a tired expression back on her. “Look, just go, would you? No one’s getting anything else out of this guy tonight.”

“Does Mr. Nelson know?” Gwen asks abruptly. “About...this?”

Murdock sighs. “I already told you, Gwen,” he says. It’s the first time he’s ever called her by just her first name. “He knows everything.”

*

But Mr. Nelson _doesn’t_ know everything. There’s something Gwen’s been keeping from him, and she’s not sure she wants to anymore.

She doesn’t exactly know why the secret’s been sitting so heavily in her stomach these past few weeks. Maybe it’s the way Murdock’s been holding his knowledge of it over her head, even if he says he’s not going to use it. Maybe it’s that Mr. Nelson’s been through enough violent surprises.

Maybe she’s just tired of juggling so many lies.

Whatever it is, Saturday morning finds her taking the long, rattling subway ride into Manhattan and ringing the doorbell of the modest brownstone where Mr. Nelson lives.

It’s Murdock who answers, glowering behind his sunglasses. With bedhead and a ratty old Columbia Law t-shirt on, he looks almost human. Gwen hates it.

“Go away,” he says.

“I want to talk to him.”

She can’t quite see Murdock roll his eyes through the glasses, but the way he tilts his head back gets the expression across nicely. “Still looking for that ‘gotcha’ moment, are you? Gonna tell him that I jaywalked last week? Stole lunch money when I was nine?”

“Amazingly enough, Murdock, not everything’s about you,” Gwen said, and shoulders past him into the brownstone.

Mr. Nelson’s sitting at the table in a bathrobe, a bagel in one hand and the Bugle in the other. “Matt, who was that at the - oh,” he says, seeing Gwen. “Um. Gwen. Good morning.” He puts the bagel down. “This is awkward.”

“ _This_ is why we call ahead,” Murdock singsongs, coming up behind Gwen. Normally it would make her skin crawl to have him there, but her spider sense is quiet. “Or just don’t show up at all.”

“Matt. Don’t be rude,” Mr. Nelson says quietly, then takes a breath and looks at Gwen like he’s facing a firing squad. “What can I do for you?”

“I don’t...I’m not here about...this,” she says, waving her hands to vaguely indicate Murdock, the avocado-print boxers she can see poking out where Mr. Nelson’s robe has fallen open, the overall domestic weirditude she’s stumbled in on. “I knew about this. I wanted to...can I talk to you? About something else?”

Mr. Nelson’s gaze turns appraising. “Give me a minute to get dressed,” he says finally. “We’ll take a walk.”

*

Gwen feels better when Mr. Nelson’s walking beside her in a wrinkled polo shirt and jeans about five years out of fashion. Seeing him at home, undressed and at ease, was too intimate, like running into one of her high school teachers at the gynecologist or something. This feels like the right amount of distance. Even for a confession.

It’s hard to work up the words, though. They walk in silence for a few blocks before Mr. Nelson finally breaks it. “I know you said you weren’t here to talk about me and Matt, but...was it Matt that you wanted to talk about? In general?”

“No,” Gwen says, and steels herself. “It’s about me.”

“Oh,” Mr. Nelson says. His brow furrows. “Is there a problem at work? One of the ADAs, or…”

“No, no, it’s not...it’s nothing that…” Gwen stops and puffs out a breath of air. They’ve reached a little park - Gwen doesn’t know the name of it, but it’s green and shady and full of people enjoying the bright Saturday morning. But it feels like she and Mr. Nelson are the only ones there.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” she said. “And I didn’t think that I _had_ to tell you, not at first, because you being my boss didn’t have anything to do with it, and really the fewer people who know the better, but I think maybe sometimes if you tell the _right_ people it’s okay, like people who should be better off knowing, because it’s safer that way, or if you really trust them, or if it feels like lying otherwise, and I didn’t think it would feel like lying but it does.”

She looks expectantly at Mr. Nelson. Mr. Nelson stares back at her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Ugh!” Gwen throws her hands up in frustration. She should just grab him and websling across the park, that’d be faster. “Okay. You know Murdock?”

“I’m familiar with him, yes,” Mr. Nelson says wryly. “I thought you said this wasn’t about him, though.”

“It’s not, but…” Gwen pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Look, you and I both know that he’s not just an ordinary lawyer. You _do_ know, right? He told me you did.”

“I know he...has a colorful past,” Mr. Nelson says carefully.

“And present,” Gwen says. “And by colorful, I mean red.”

Mr. Nelson goes pale. “How did you...I don’t...what do you mean, red?”

“You _know_ what I mean,” she says, and after a minute he ducks his chin, acknowledging it. He knows. “He said you know everything about him. If I’m working for you - if we’re… _friends_ \- then you should know about me too.” She takes a breath. “Mr. Nelson, I’m Sp-- ”

“No.”

She blinks at him. “What?”

“No,” Mr. Nelson says. He doesn’t look shocked anymore, just intent. “Matt’s my...that’s different. I don’t need to know everything about you. Speaking professionally, I _shouldn’t_.”

“This isn’t about work,” Gwen says.

“ _Everything_ is about work,” Mr. Nelson says. “I’m the district attorney. When you’re talking to me, you’re talking to the legal apparatus of New York.”

“But it’s not relevant that the legal apparatus of New York had a sleepover with a former criminal and current vigilante last night?” Gwen asks before she can stop herself.

“Fair enough.” Mr. Nelson sighs. “I told you once before, Gwen. We’re none of us perfect.”

Gwen starts to nod, then freezes. He didn’t tell _her_ that.

“The official stance of the City of New York is that Spider-Woman is an unsanctioned vigilante who is to be apprehended on sight,” Mr. Nelson goes on. He’s gazing into the park, not meeting her eyes. “As a private individual I might disagree, but that doesn’t change my public responsibility.”

“But Daredevil…” Gwen starts.

“Is still an urban legend as far as the mayor’s concerned. And other individuals with...complicated histories have cut deals with the city.” Mr. Nelson shrugs. “I can’t change the things I already _know_. When it comes to things I only _suspect_ , based on some coincidental timing and the fact that I’ve never yet met a masked hero who took the trouble to disguise their voice, I’m not obligated to act. Especially when I might privately believe that Spider Woman is a hero, and that we’re lucky to have her. But if I happened to learn for certain who she was…” He spreads his hands. “I would have to act in my public capacity, and not my private one. Do you understand?”

Gwen can’t answer for a minute. _Hero._

“I understand,” she says finally, blinking away tears.

“Good,” Mr. Nelson says, suddenly brisk. “Because _someone_ interrupted my breakfast, and there’s a really good pastry shop around the corner. Are you hungry?”

Gwen sniffs, and shakes out her hair, and smiles at him. “Yeah,” she says. “I could eat.”

*

It _is_ a really good pastry shop. Gwen rides the train back to Queens with a bag of something addictive and unpronounceably Belgian in her lap, nursing a second cup of coffee and thinking.

She’s still not sure whether she can trust Murdock - either not to fall off the goodness wagon or not to go totally feral on some random pickpocket’s face as Daredevil. He’s making a lot of noise about turning over a new leaf, and Mr. Nelson seems totally convinced, but Gwen’s learned the hard way by now that people can let you down when you least expect it. Maybe it’s time to start hoping for the best, though, even if she’ll keep preparing for the worst, too. And keeping an eye on Daredevil, for that matter.

She’s not sure if the bargain she struck with Mr. Nelson is right either. But it’s clear that he knows, and that he thinks she does good - that she’s a _hero_ \- and she guesses if he’s happy with that arrangement, she should be too. It’s good to know that she’s got at least one city official in her corner, at any rate.

She’s _definitely_ sure that she doesn’t want to go into the law after college, but her internship’s over in a few weeks anyway. She can stick it out.

As they emerge from the tunnel to the aboveground tracks, she takes a sip of her coffee and looks at the streets of Queens unfolding beneath her, the silver spires of Manhattan gleaming in the distance. She doesn’t know if she can keep it safe, but hey - someone out there believes in her.

It’s a beautiful morning.

**Author's Note:**

> THE END! I mean, never say never, but I think I'm really done with this universe this time. Especially since hoo boy has my timeline been jossed to hell by the comic itself. (Foggy is not nearly as much of a sweetheart and Matt is not even a tiny bit decent. I still love them.)
> 
> Thanks to everyone for sticking with this, to princess-nell on tumblr for donating to hurricane relief for Puerto Rico in exchange for me getting off my butt and finally finishing this, and to puzzleboat for her endless patience with betaing my nonsense.
> 
> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://pluckyredhead.tumblr.com/)!


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